


The Dove And The Lion

by Poohzhunny



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poohzhunny/pseuds/Poohzhunny
Summary: A DAI series of events from the POV of a ‘mundane’ protagonist. Too much fluff, you’ll probably hate it... I may have cried. Also, first time writing out an explicit sex scene... I am terrified.





	1. Shortbread

Penance gathered up the tray and headed out of the Skyhold kitchen, up the stairs and into the main hall. She walked past the Free Marcher dwarf, Varric - who looked like he was deep in the process of writing a story or some correspondence - and strode through the rotunda, nodding to the silent elf as she went by. He eyed the tea pot with a sneer but gave her a courteous enough nod in return. She couldn’t have explained why if someone had bothered to ask, but he always gave her chills. Not good ones.

She continued down the pathway and knocked on the tower’s door at the end. The answer came after a few moments, the voice low and tired. Penance bit her lower lip, trying to gird herself before she entered. The Commander always made her nervous. He had never been discourteous to her but being bombarded with reports, troops, drills, war councils and who knew what else left him somewhat curt at times and she hated the thought she might be adding to his woes. She opened the door and closed it behind herself.

The Commander stood in front of his desk, both hands on the thick wooden surface, head down as she entered. He lifted it to look at who had entered. “What is it?” His face was strained with exhaustion and his eyes glazed over even as he tried to focus on her. The attention didn’t help her nerves but she set the tray down on a side table that had been kept cleared.

She cleared her throat. “Tea, Commander, and some food.”

“I didn’t request anything.”

“I know, sir.” She fidgeted a little as she explained. “I made a tea for Inquisitor Trevelyan yesterday when he mentioned a headache and he asked me to make sure to send you some earlier today.”

The warrior stood up to his full height this time, casting a side glance at the tea pot and noticed the plate of food. “I doubt tea will help, but thank you.”

“If I may,” she filled a cup and brought it to him. He took the saucer and set it down on his desk. “Master Adan taught me the basic recipe. I modified it a little for myself as I get frequent migraines.” She looked away from his eyes and stepped toward the door. “The food might also help?” Penance gave him a half smile before rushing through the door and back toward the kitchens with a sigh of relief.

Once in the Hall, she stopped as her name rang out from the far corner by the throne. The Inquisitor waved her over and she scurried to see to what he might need. “Hello, Penance, have you had time to get some of that tea to Cullen?” A stark contrast to the Commander, the Inquisitor had an easy smile and quick, witty humour that could make anyone feel comfortable around him.

“Just now, Inquisitor, though I admit I’m not sure he’ll drink it.”

“Ah, being his sullen stubborn self today, I take it? I’ll make sure he drinks it, thank you, Penance.”

“Anything for your worship” she nodded. The Inquisitor sauntered down the great hall and past Varric. Penance took the stairs to the Inquisitor’s chambers to make sure they didn’t need anything before checking in with Lady Montilyet and Sister Leliana, dropping off meals and clearing dishes on the way.

Penance returned to the Commander’s tower several hours later to clear his tray. She found his quarters empty but the plate and tea had been consumed.

 

The Inquisition had arrived in Skyhold after a long trek through the cold Frostback mountains following an attack on Haven where they had set up beforehand. The Inquisitor had found himself facing an ancient Tevinter mage darkspawn before being buried in an avalanche. How he had managed to find his way back to the refugees in the snow storm, Penance couldn’t begin to guess, but she was grateful the Maker had watched over his Herald. The blow they had taken at Haven had shaken everyone, and Penance knew the Commander especially felt responsible for the losses by the monster and his archdemon pet.

She reminded herself of this fact as she walked over to the tower the following evening with another tray of food and tea. She knocked and entered once she heard him call out. The Commander watched the lithe little elf as she dropped her burden on the table quietly and turned to leave. She was almost at the door when his voice stopped her. “Thank you for the tea, yesterday.”

She turned to him and nodded. “Did it help?”

“Yes, more than I thought it would, I’ll admit,” he said, distracted as he searched for something specific on his desk. “Adan’s recipe, did you say?” He pulled a parchment out to read.

“More or less, yes. He was kind enough to teach me a few things in Haven when I had time.”

“Hm?” He looked up, though he’d obviously missed what she’d said as he pored over the document.

She giggled. “Good night, Commander. Do let me know if you require more, it’d be my pleasure.”

Cullen stared at the closed door for some time, still distracted but feeling ashamed for his lack of manners toward the maid. The smell of stew drew his gaze over to the tray she’d brought in and he grabbed the bowl before sitting down to read the latest report from the Hinterlands. He nabbed the biscuit from the plate, amazed that they were able to bake anything this good in the Skyhold kitchens already. He hadn’t requested this meal either, but he was thankful she’d brought it. He didn’t doubt the Inquisitor had asked her to tend to him so he didn’t forget to eat entirely. He’d have to thank her properly next time she came by.

 

When she returned the following evening, however, he was racked with severe nausea, headache and pains throughout his body, symptoms of his lyrium withdrawal. He pondered sending her away but his earlier rudeness still shamed him and he called her in, hoping she’d be quick about it as his hands clenched the edge of the desk. As she set the tray down, however, a low grunt ran through his throat, the room spinning into a blur around him. He felt his knees give out, fully expecting his head to hit the desk as he collapsed when little hands somehow slid underneath his armpits to hold him back.

Penance noticed the drawn, pale hue of the Commander’s face when she walked by. His eyes had been clenched shut and his jaw strained. She’d called his name but he hadn’t heard when his body began to wobble. She groaned under his weight as she caught him before he could hit the desk but she couldn’t hold him up. She stepped back toward the wall to lower him as gently as she could before she collapsed down herself, his back leaning heavily onto her chest, the metal plates digging into her. “Commander?” She touched his forehead. He was burning.

She dragged him back so he could lean against the wall and ran over to the water basin to grab a cloth and water. Dipping the cloth into the cool water, she dabbed his forehead to cool him as best she could. When he came to, a low growl in his throat and a frown on his brow, his eyes blinked several times before they could focus on her face. He tried to get up but she set a hand on his chest and shook her head. “Not yet.” She refreshed the water on the cloth and returned it to his forehead, his eyes losing some of their tension at the feeling on his skin.

“How long have I been out?” He rasped.

“A few hours” she said, getting up to grab a cup of cold tea. She tipped it to his lips and slapped his hand away as he tried to grasp for it. “You’ll spill, and then I’ll have to clean it up.” For all her reprimand, her tone was soft and she winked at him to let him know she meant only to help. She hummed a song under her breath as she helped him drink more tea, all the while keeping the cool cloth working about his face.

“Has anyone...”

She shook her head. “I’ve kept everyone out. Reports are on your desk. Nothing urgent, I was told.” She sighed, looking back to the ladder that led to the Commander’s sleeping quarters. “I wish I could have made you more comfortable than this, but I barely could get you here.”

“Thank you.” He took a sip of the tea, noticing she’d added some honey. “What’s your name?” He was embarrassed to admit that he had no idea what her name was but pretending otherwise would have been worse.

“Penance. Do you think you feel up to getting to your chair?” She asked, noting his complexion was toning down enough they might be able to get him off the floor at least. He nodded. She crouched next to him, sliding his arm behind her neck, following along for balance and support as he manoeuvred himself to his knees, then up onto his feet. She grabbed the chair and dragged it behind him so he could sit down. “If you weren’t in full armour, this would be a lot easier” she quipped before catching herself. She blushed but he giggled a little while she brought the food tray to him.

“You have a point.” She handed him a short stick of shortbread and he bit off the end, unsure his stomach would be able to handle the food. The dough melted in his mouth, light hints of vanilla and... lemon? “Maker’s breath... who makes these? They deserve a raise.”

Penance shuffled about the room with a flush on her cheeks that told him precisely who’d made the treats but she didn’t answer. “Don’t eat too much too fast” she told him gently. “Will you be needing anything else? Other than rest, I mean?” She chided.

He shook his head. “No, I imagine you have better things to do than this.” He stopped her before she opened the door. “Penance?” She turned to look at him with her eyebrows up. “Thank you.” She smiled and disappeared behind the door, leaving him to nurse the remainder of the fever to himself.

 

The next weeks were busy for the Inquisition as the Inquisitor left Skyhold to help the Hinterlands close rifts and bring back some stability to the region. The more people heard about his deeds, the more flocked through the dangers of the mountain pass to witness the new organization, and perhaps catch a glimpse of the Herald of Andraste himself. Penance had found her time stretched thin with the new arrivals, eventually requesting the hiring of more hands for the guests and overall upkeep of the fortress. Dignitaries from Orlais and Ferelden began to arrive, noble guests who required constant attention or who brought their own servants which inevitably led to clashes with the Skyhold staff. Penance found herself mediating on a daily basis to maintain a semblance of order.

Commander Cullen was a constant fixture either in the war room with the Lady Montilyet and Sister Nightingale, or in his office, surrounded by his soldiers or scouts and mounds of reports. On a few occasions, he called on her tea mixture for headaches but that aside, he saw little of her, and only briefly as she pushed through his soldiers to drop off his meals. He’d asked her to forego knocking the day after she’d helped him through his fever and although at first his men had been surprised at the little elf bursting in unannounced during meetings, they quickly grew accustomed to her presence, with more than a few requests for her shortbread making it back to the kitchen as the Commander refused to share.

Once they managed to hire a few more staff, Penance found a bit more time to handle the extra duties she’d somehow gathered since Haven and the keep began to perk up overall as a result. Cullen found her in the midst of the scouts rescued from the Fallow Mire by the Inquisitor, helping tend the wounded and bandaging. Later on during a storm, he walked the battlements to meet with Iron Bull who wanted to pass on some information in the Herald’s Rest and spotted her handing out mugs of hot cocoa and cookies and chatting with the sentries, clinging to her thin cloak with a smile as she listened to their stories. He couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to be everywhere at once, or how she always found a dozen ways to make the days brighter for those that needed it the most. All the while, meals and treats appeared on his table, as if by magic on some of the days where he didn’t even see her.

Time seemed to blend together as the Inquisition grew. Routines established themselves all around. The Inquisitor and his inner circle headed off to the Western Approach to chase a lead on Venatori activity while the advisors stayed in Skyhold to handle the various demands of their troops, spy network and dignitaries. Late one evening, Cullen had left the Spymaster’s quarters to return to his own when he heard a commotion toward the guest wing above the gardens.

He followed the sound to find a small group of people gathered around Penance and an Orlesian noble. The man stood tall in a haughty posture, berating her and the crowd as the Commander approached, noticing with a scowl that Penance’s blouse had been ripped at the shoulder. She held the tatters with a clenched fist against her skin, her face twisted into a snarl and tears welling in her eyes.

Scout Jim stood near, hands raised to try and appease the noble. Behind Cullen, Josephine appeared with a worried expression. “Lady Montilyet” the man spouted from underneath his mask, “this elf needs to be reprimanded. I shan’t allow myself to be so insulted as a guest here.”

Penance sprung toward the man who recoiled in fear at the snarling creature. Cullen stepped in between them, looking into her eyes to calm her with hands on her shoulders. She struggled to get by him still, her lithe frame surprisingly difficult to stop. “Insulted?! You assaulted me!”

“Preposterous!”

The Commander waved the man to be quiet. “What happened, Penance?”

She composed herself before answering, glaring at the nobleman as she did so. “He requested a change of sheets. I’d sent everyone to rest for the day so I took them up for him. He tried to... he touched me, tried to kiss me, threw me on the bed, and ripped up my blouse....” she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I struggled enough to escape and stumbled out here into Jim.”

Cullen removed his lion mane tunic and covered Penance’s shoulders with it. “Scout?”

Jim stepped forward with a small salute. “That’s correct, Commander. I heard a commotion and came to investigate. I did hear the lady ask him to stop just before she came out of the room.”

Josephine stepped forward. “Lord Tremblay, we will make a full inquiry into this matter. In the meanwhile, you will be placed under watch by Inquisition soldiers. Should we confirm that the accusations against you are warranted, you will be escorted from Skyhold immediately.” She looked at the Commander who nodded to indicate he would send a couple of armed guards to watch the room until this was resolved. Her gaze returned to the Orlesian. “That being said, I suggest you make preparations now for your return to Val Royaux. Penance is one of our most valued staff members and of the utmost integrity. I have no doubt that she has been forthright.”

The man seethed in place for several moments before retreating into his room. Josephine requested a meeting with set times from everyone who had heard anything from the ordeal and everyone dispersed. The Commander placed a hand on Penance’s shoulder. “May I walk you back to your quarters?” She nodded, struggling visibly to hold back tears now that the adrenaline had dissipated and they walked off together. “Are you hurt?”

Her hands clenched the mane of his tunic into her fists as she replied. “No. Not really. I’ve never been so angry in my life though...”

“It must have frightened you. I am so sorry this happened.” She looked up at him but he stared ahead with a fierce glare she imagined could frighten a raging wyvern.

“Not really. I suppose after Denerim, Haven and the Red Templars, Lord Whatever didn’t seem all that bad.”

His expression softened somewhat and he giggled. “I suppose not. Still, if there is anything I can do, you need only ask. Josephine seems to value your work. Do you know her well?”

“After the conclave exploded, I was left in Haven with no employer and no means to return to Denerim... not that the thought of the alienage left me yearning to. In the aftermath, there was a lot to do and I helped while I considered what my next step might be. The Lady Ambassador took notice, perhaps, and offered me a job. The Inquisition feels like home now.”

She led him out of the keep and down toward the main gates where a small room had been furnished with a few beds for her and some of the other maids. She stopped at the door and returned his tunic to him. For the first time since they’d met, he noticed the light freckles that dotted her cheeks, like so many stars around large eyes of a light shade of green with gold speckles toward the centre. Her lower lip had a reddish swell that made him bristle, likely the result of an unwanted kiss or a slap. She noticed his eyes drifting to the wound and covered it with the back of her hand. “Good night, Commander.”

He watched the door as it closed behind her before he returned to the keep. His long legs took him up the steps quickly and he regrouped with Josephine. She’d just finished taking Scout Jim’s accounts of what he’d heard, her pen writing furiously on the page. “I’ll have the man escorted to the gates at first light” he growled, sitting down across from the ambassador.

“Good. Although undoubtedly he will spread lies about this as he returns to Orlais. Perhaps I’ll inform Leliana. A few birds might bring our version of the story to the Empire before he does.” She looked up briefly while she wrote. “How is she?”

“Angry, mostly. I’m not clear on what her role is here at Skyhold. She mentioned you hired her?”

“That is correct. In Haven. We needed someone to oversee the staff and supplies for the cooks, housekeeping, and everything that might otherwise be needed for the daily operations. Penance had been helping with so much already after the explosion at the conclave, it seemed the right decision to offer her the position. She has been invaluable, truly.”

Cullen eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Do you mean to tell me that she runs Skyhold?”

Josephine looked at him again. “Well, the daily operations, yes. Why? Is that so surprising?”

“Well, yes. How is someone with that much work to do delivering my meals? Or hot cocoa to the scouts on the battlements during snow storms? Or finding time to roast nuts with sugar and cinnamon for Cabot?”

The ambassador smiled softly but indulged him with an explanation - Cullen couldn’t help but feel like he was back in Honnleath, nine years old and pestering his mother with inanities again. “Because, Commander, she cares deeply for the Inquisition, and everyone in it. She leads by example from what I’ve seen and her staff hold her in great esteem.” She cleared her throat with a mischievous glint in her eye. “She delivers your meals personally?” He groaned in frustration at the implication. “Commander, if you’ll excuse me, I have much to do.”

Cullen left the Ambassador’s office to return to his quarters, unsurprised to find a pot of tea and a bowl of stew waiting for him.


	2. Threads

The following days were busy as the Inquisition prepared to attend the ball at the Winter Palace. All of the advisors, along with the Inquisitor’s inner circle were to attend and prepare for trouble. Penance snickered to herself as she walked in on the Commander while he was being measured for his formal attire for the ball, looking dreadfully uncomfortable. She patted his shoulder in commiseration before clearing his tray and leaving him to his troubles. 

By the time the seamstress left his quarters, he felt a migraine coming on and went looking for Penance to see if she might have a tea for him. He stopped at the door to the rotunda at the sound of her voice, slightly raised.

“If you don’t like the tea, why ask for it?” She spat.

“Because I must stay awake today” Solas retorted curtly.

“A swift run about the battlements would do just as well, I suspect, and be much less of an inconvenience. To me.”

“I do not run.”

“Clearly.”

The Commander decided it might be time to interrupt the exchange before it escalated further. He couldn’t recall Penance, or Solas for that matter, ever being so short tempered with anyone - except perhaps Sera in the latter’s case. Both elves turned to the door and Cullen found it difficult to hide a grin at the scowls on their delicate faces. He stopped in his steps. “Am I interrupting?”

“No.” Solas set down his tea cup with a grimace. “The lady Penance was just leaving.”

“Might I borrow some of your time then?” He asked her.

Her expression softened as she nodded, falling in step next to him as they headed for the main hall. Once the door had closed, Cullen turned to her with a smirk. “Not overly fond of Solas, I take it?”

Her disgusted grunt could have rivalled Cassandra’s on her best day. “He irks me to no end. Conceited and condescending, like he knows everything.” She pinched her nose, her eyes clenched in annoyance and took a deep breath. “I apologize. This is unworthy of me.”

He giggled. “It’s quite alright.”

“What can I help you with, Commander?” She touched his arm lightly, a friendly gesture to let him know he had her attention.

“I was hoping... for some tea.”

She laughed out loud, her features relaxed and brightened at his request. “Well, as long as you promise you won’t grimace until I’ve left the room if you don’t like it.” He followed as she turned toward the stairs that would lead down to the kitchen. “Oh you mean now?”

He rubbed his neck, suddenly uncomfortable. “If it’s not too much to ask. The seamstress brought on a headache I’m afraid.”

“Ah, of course.” They made their way through the empty underground hall. She entered the kitchen and went to work on making his tea while he watched. The cook who’d been peeling potatoes nodded but continued on his task, eyeing the elf as well in case she might request anything of him. Penance fluttered about like a bee, her hands precise, not wasting any time in putting the water over the fire to heat it, and finding a tea pot, a cup and saucer. She set it all out on a tray while she waited for the water, then walked over to a cupboard she unlocked with a key.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Herbs and reagents for some of my little mixtures. The ingredients are on the rare side and aren’t safe if not handled properly.”

“I didn’t realize the recipes were complex.”

She locked the cabinet back up before snatching a pestle and mortar from a shelf to mash up some of the herbs. She shrugged. “I honestly wouldn’t know. Adan only taught me a few, but he did mention he’d teach me more if I asked. I think he was pleased with my work while we helped the Inquisitor after he came out of the Fade in the Temple.”

“You helped make the potions?”

“Mostly gather and prepare the herbs while he brewed it all up. He’s a tad surly, but knowledgeable and very meticulous.” She measured the herbs she’d ground into a fine dust on a small scale, waiting for just the right amount. She paused and looked up at him. “How bad is this headache?”

“On the migraine side. It hasn’t hit yet, but...”

She nodded quietly - she knew the signs all too well herself. She scooped the ingredients carefully into a fine cloth bag and tied it with cotton string to keep everything in. “Elijah, please prepare some meats and cheeses for the Commander.” The young man set to work instantly to cut up some dried sausages and hard cheeses. The bag was dropped into the tea pot just in time for the boiling water. She poured the water in and shut the little lid and took a peek at the plate of food that was taking shape. “Apple slices, please.”

Cullen couldn’t help but smile at the scene. The young man, a Fereldan boy by the look of him, dutifully complied to her every request as she watched him - a young apprentice, perhaps that she’d decided to take on. He completed his task and set down his tools, waiting for further instructions. She smiled at him warmly and laid her hand on his arm. “Perfect.” Elijah’s smile brightened the room as he returned to his potatoes, bursting with pride. Somehow, Cullen didn’t doubt that earning her approval was difficult, but well worth it by the look on the boy’s face. “Commander?”

He realized she was waiting for him at the door, holding the tray up. “I can take it from here” he said, aware she’d refuse in all likelihood.

“Would you let me carry your armour?”

“No. Point taken.”

“I appreciate the offer, though, thank you.” She looked over the tray at him. “When are you all departing for the Winter Palace?”

“In a few days.”

“Skyhold will feel rather empty, I admit.” She blushed a little and cleared her throat. “With so many of you attending.”

“Let’s just hope we aren’t held up any longer than necessary. Balls are not my area of expertise.” His hand shielded his eyes from the sun as they stepped outside between the keep and his tower. The headache was intensifying, she guessed. “You said you came from Denerim? Were you in the alienage?”

She nodded. “When I was young, yes. During the Blight, my mother died. I was taken on as a maid by a well-to-do merchant who needed someone to care for him and his ailing wife. He was kind enough. Made sure I could read and write.”

“Was this the same employer who died at the Conclave?”

“Yes. His wife passed a few years ago.” They entered his tower.

“Your father?”

She shrugged as she laid the tray down on the table and pointed at his chair for him to sit, as though it wasn’t his own seat to take. She poured him a cup and handed it to him quietly, aware that the headache had shifted into a full blown migraine now. It would take several minutes for the herbs to help dull the pain. She touched her wrist to his forehead to check his temperature. This had become a bit of a routine over the last several months between them and he’d allowed it out of courtesy at first, but more so now out of the soothing comfort of her touch; not to mention he was in too much pain to be self-conscious over the brief contact. “Lean back” she said as she pulled on his tunic gently to encourage him along.

He felt like his skull might crack open from the inside, the pain radiating from his eyes and over, down to the back of his neck with every heartbeat. His jaw clenched for a moment until he felt her small fingers slide through his hair and onto his scalp along his temple. He might have protested if he hadn’t been in so much agony. As it was, the strong strokes of her fingertips over his skin drew a groan of relief from his throat. His head leaned back as he relaxed until it rested against her; she continued to work her hands up and down in long, strong strokes, her thumbs pushing in circular motions. Eventually, his heartbeat slowed a little, until he felt the edge of the migraine dull down to an acceptable level as the medicine worked its way through his system.

As if she knew precisely how long it took for her tea to work its magic, her hands pulled away from his head, giving him a moment to support his head forward again before she moved to the front of his desk, ready to leave. “Better?” He gave her a weak smile and she stepped through the door before he could word his thanks. Penance passed through the rotunda and quietly glared at Solas grimacing at his tea.

Over the next few days, Penance prepared enough herbal mixture for the Commander to take on his journey to the Winter Palace. With so much to prepare in supplies for their journey, she found no time to deliver it herself, however and sent her apprentice Elijah in her stead. Josephine had been in an absolute frenzy over the preparations and had asked Penance to be in charge of the guests and their concerns while she was gone, spending hours every day with her to go over each guest that would be coming and going from Skyhold during her absence and how to get in touch with her or Leliana by bird in case of emergency.

Penance didn’t think the nobles would appreciate being greeted by a Fereldan elf from an alienage and pointed out that she only possessed clothes of the most basic quality. Josephine had blushed visibly at the realization and, after apologizing profusely for her oversight, she had commandeered more of her time to get her measured for more appropriate clothing to fully represent the Inquisition in her stead. The Commander walked into the Ambassador’s office to find Penance standing on a step, a seamstress tightening up the waist of a light-coloured leather jerkin that overlapped a flowing teal blouse. Leather wristbands covered her forearms to accentuate the overall look of the leather, along with a tall pair of laced boots.

Cullen had only ever seen her in her Fereldan work dresses, loose, practical clothing that served the common folk well in the colder climes, but that could also be more easily replaced if need be. He suspected she’d never felt such finery on her skin and her despondent expression at being handled by the seamstress told him she likely had never had anything tailored either. “Yes, Commander?”

“Hm?”

“May I help you with anything?” Josephine’s voice finally broke his attention from the two elves in the corner. Leliana stood next to her with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Cullen tried to focus on what he’d come to tell the two advisors but his words were lost. “I...” he cleared his throat, “um...”

The Inquisitor walked into the room then, stopping next to Cullen at the sight of Penance. “Andraste have mercy!” He stepped over to the pair and took one of Penance’s hands in his, planting a light kiss on the back with a bow. “Our guests will never leave after they get a glimpse of you, my lady.”

She rolled her eyes and slapped his hand away with a grin. “It isn’t polite to mock, Your Worship. I’ll be lucky to get out of this alive without you harassing me.”

The Inquisitor bade Cullen, Josephine and Leliana to follow him to the war room and they disappeared behind the great wooden doors.

The following morning, the Inquisition party gathered outside to depart Skyhold. Penance listened patiently as Josephine reviewed information with her for the third time on Lady Eustache’s culinary requirements and various allergies to fabrics of all kinds. The elf fidgeted a little in her new clothes, uncomfortable at the looks she received, breathing a hidden sigh of relief when the Ambassador finally turned to mount her own horse and step in with the rest. Cullen came up to her, leading his horse by the bridle. “Thank you for the herbs. Should you need anything, Knight-Captain Briony should be able to assist in my absence.”

“You’re most welcome, Commander. I hope I made enough. Keep the packets out of the sun or they’ll lose their potency.” She stepped away to let him mount, a strained smile on her lips.

Cullen noticed the expression and leaned forward in his saddle to adjust his stirrup. His voice lowered to a notch above a whisper. His eyes looked into hers as he spoke. “You’ll do fine, Penance. Josephine could not have chosen better.”

She bit her lower lip with a little nod in thanks. He motioned his horse and they fell in line behind the rest of the party. She estimated they would be gone approximately three weeks, if everything went well. She turned toward the keep and strode up the steps leading to the great hall. She closed the door of Josephine’s office behind her and stared at the desk for some time, terrified beyond reason at the piece of furniture. “Andraste preserve me.”

 

The following weeks passed in a blur. Penance spent most of her days at the desk listening to Skyhold’s concerns and squabbles, or reading hundreds of reports from all the various outposts of the Inquisition. She slept and ate little while her fingers struggled to write responses in what she hoped might be considered decent penmanship. Her staff had been delegated various tasks and tried to disturb her as little as possible while she handled her temporary duties, all too aware of how strained she was. Elijah found time each day to bring her a meal and cookies he had been working on to improve his recipes; he didn’t fail to notice the circles under eyes growing with each passing day, or the way she blinked away at the sunlight as her migraines struck more and more often under the pressure.

More than one noble bristled at being received by an Elven servant, from an alienage no less, but as there was no alternative, those that complained eventually maintained a modicum amount of civility in order for their concerns to be addressed. The little elf behind the desk was immovable and could not be intimidated, no matter the tantrum; more than one dignitary faced the back of the office door after being gently escorted out by Knight-Captain Briony.

One evening, Penance set down a correspondence from Leliana detailing the events of the talks at the Winter Palace, stating they should be leaving to return to Skyhold within a day or two. She’d slunk into the chair with a sigh of relief. “Sweet Maker, thank you!”

“What is it?” The Knight-Captain asked.

“They should be leaving the Winter Palace soon.” She passed the letter over to her and stood up to stretch her legs. The door opened and Cabot, the Herald’s Rest bartender walked in. Penance’s face fell, expecting an issue. The dwarf was known for his curtness and threw anyone who managed to offend him out of the tavern. “Cabot, what can I do for you.”

“Little Dove” he waved, using the nickname he’d given her after she’d began making her roasted nuts for him, “I need to show you something.” Penance furrowed her brow, her fingers rubbing her forehead in anticipation of the headache this was likely about to give her, but she followed him toward the tavern.

He opened the door and waved her in. Her heart stopped when a crowd burst out screaming from the corners and behind the bar: “Happy birthday!!!” A table had been set at the edge of the tavern with food and cake, candles and several wrapped gifts. Penance stood, frozen in shock with a hand to her heart for several moments before a smile crept onto her lips. Cabot shoved her forward until she walked to the table of her own accord.

“How did you all even know?” She hugged Elijah as he came forward with a pint for her. She took a sip but set it down as more of the revellers came forward for their turn at wrapping her up, Cabot even lifting her up in a bear hug with a laugh.

Briony patted her shoulder. “The Commander might have let the date slip. We all agreed you were in dire need of some down time, and perhaps a reminder that without you, Skyhold wouldn’t feel like home.”

“This is too much.” She shook her head and sat down at the table. Everyone joined in and plates filled with food immediately. Conversation grew, perked with laughter and jibes. Penance had always felt at home in Skyhold, but her days were so busy she spent very little time with her fellows. This was the first time she had felt truly appreciated in a long time and her heart swelled. The celebration continued into the small hours, much of it turning into a blur as the Fereldan beer began to take its toll.

Penance awoke the following morning with a groan. Her head threatened to split in two if she tried to get up too fast, not to mention her stomach churned at the way the room swivelled into shape around her. She didn’t know what time it was nor did she care; she couldn’t remember getting into bed... or into her night gown for that matter, but she was alone at least. The thin ray of sunlight coming in from below the door told her the sun had risen if nothing else. Presents had been piled next to her bed and a bowl of broth steamed on her nightstand. She sniffed it dubiously but the hint of ginger changed her mind. Elijah, no doubt. She smiled as she sipped, thinking of how much he’d learned in so little time.

She began to open the presents, one at a time, warmed by all of the tokens of appreciation, and the words of kindness attached to them. Elijah had baked her little lemon cakes, her favourites, he knew. Josephine had had an extra outfit sown for her as a surprise, a beautifulturquoise scarf included with golden highlights woven into the fabric. The Inquisitor had written a long letter for her to thank her for all her ‘little kindnesses’ as he called them, attached to a long, intricate hair pin ‘to keep her tangles out of her face while she baked his cinnamon rolls’.

Her breath stopped in her throat at the sight of the Commander’s handwriting on a note attached to a large parcel. She opened it with shaking hands.

_Dearest Penance,_

_I do hope your birthday celebrations did not get too out of hand - the Inquisition needs you at your best, after all. I wish I could have been present, but Briony assured me it would be memorable._

____

____

_I thought this might help make your endless rounds through the battlements more comfortable when the weather is unkind. I couldn’t express enough gratitude for all of the kindness you’ve shown me over the past year in countless little ways, so please allow me this kindness in return._

_Sincerely,_

_-C._

 

She opened the present gingerly, almost afraid to see what lay inside. A cloak, long and lined with fennec fur around the hood, of a light-coloured leather. A beautiful clasp shaped like a dove held it closed at the neck. Her fingers touched the material, feeling the fur with delight, marvelling at the work that had gone into crafting the little bird, which could be removed and serve as a brooch. It was a practical gift, which she would have expected from the Commander, but he’d also made sure that the colour would suit her, and the adornment told her that he not only knew the nickname Cabot used for her, but thought it suited her enough to add to the garment. It was enough for her to almost look forward to the nights growing colder toward the end of Fall just so she could wear it for him.

It was almost mid-morning by the time she pulled herself together to tend to her duties, but despite her tardiness, she felt a spring in her step that she hadn’t in some time.

 

The last week was spent preparing for everyone’s return to Skyhold. Personal quarters were cleaned, tidied and spruced up with little touches to help drain some of the travel weariness from them. When Scout Jim barged into her office to announce that the Inquisition party had been spotted down in the valley, Penance had nodded with a smile. “Let everyone know, please.” He’d scurried back out to spread the word and the keep had burst into a veritable hive of activity all around her.

Once her meeting with the current dignitary had been concluded, Penance organized all of the correspondence of the past few weeks into a folder, organized by date and topic. She cleared Josephine’s desk of any of her own belongings, set a fire in the hearth and placed a bouquet of flowers on the corner.

She strode through the kitchen to take in the progress there before checking that baths were being heated up. As the party approached the gate, she found time to run to her room to clean herself up a little, tying her hair up in a loose bun and using the hair pin that the Inquisitor had given her. She wrapped her neck with the turquoise scarf from Josephine and the new outfit. It was still too warm for the cloak from Cullen but she removed the clasp to affix it to the scarf and keep it in place.

She ran back to the kitchens, giving Elijah a brief pat on the shoulder for all his work before heading up to the main hall to make sure it was presentable. Voices from the courtyard drew her attention and she headed in their direction.

Cullen looked up toward the keep once he passed through the final gate, his eye drawn by the lithe figure atop the keep’s main entrance, her strawberry blonde hair glistening in the morning sun. Horsemaster Dennet barked out orders for the mounts and their various care requirements. The Commander dismounted and waved at Knight-Captain Briony. She saluted briskly as she fell in step next to him, heading up the sloping stairs that lead up to the upper courtyard. “How was it?” He asked with a smirk.

“Everyone got a little out of hand, but I daresay she had a great time. We had to carry her to her bed.” The woman giggled. “Maker knows she needed the distraction. She won’t say anything, but this was a lot to put on anyone. I’ll need some of Josephine’s time to let her know who had to be escorted out of her office while she was away for calling her ‘knife-ear’, but she held everything together splendidly.”

Cullen nodded and the Knight-Captain was off. He rounded the corner of the arch, unaware of the smile that crept on his lips at the sight of Penance in discussion with the Inquisitor, standing tall and proud in her new clothes, the little dove holding a scarf on her neck.

Trevelyan’s eyes flickered over to him as he approached, a sudden yawn on his lips, he excused himself to ‘wash the Winter Palace off’. “Commander,” she squeezed his arm in greeting. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you. How was your birthday celebration?” He winked.

She grinned, a little flush creeping onto her cheeks. “For what I can remember, it was wonderful. I admit I may have overindulged. I can’t thank you enough.”

He giggled a little. “The whole purpose was to thank you for everything. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” His thumb stroked the dove below her neck and he cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “Is it... I mean, do you like it?”

She stood up onto her toes, a hand on his arm for balance, and placed a petal-soft kiss onto his cheek. “It’s perfect.” She left him with a quick glance back as she walked away down the path to check on everyone else.

“ _Heart skips. So close I can smell... oakmoss and elderflower. What his hands would feel like on my skin._ ” Cullen turned toward the soft voice behind him with a ruddy flush to his cheeks. “She wishes you’d kissed her.”

“Maker’s breath... Cole.” His hand ran through his hair. The young man had appeared in Haven to warn them of Corypheus’ attack. Solas had explained to them that he was a spirit of compassion who’d taken on the form of a young man. Cullen himself wasn’t pleased when the Inquisitor had decided to allow him to stay, but he had to admit that he had been helpful since. “I wish you’d stop appearing out of thin air like that.”

He followed along as the Commander headed up to the battlements toward his quarters, his face almost hidden underneath his large brimmed hat. “I didn’t. You didn’t hear me. _Hair like a soft sunset. She smiles, smells of cinnamon and sugar. Eyes sparkle like stars._ Are you going to tell her how you feel? You should.”

Cullen turned to tell him to leave him be but his mouth snapped shut at his last words. He took a deep breath instead. “Thank you, Cole.” The boy left him to return to his own dwelling in the loft atop the tavern. He knew Cole could feel others’ thoughts and more than once he’d been the brunt of his ‘gift’. Like most people, he tried to avoid thinking of his own pain and the words tended to cut deep. This time, however, he found himself pondering them for some time after he entered his quarters. The hot bath that simmered in the corner, waiting for him, reminded him of the attention that had been spared to make him feel welcomed home. His office had been cleaned, dusted and tidied, but nothing had been moved from its original spot on his desk. The shortbread and tea on the table. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Maybe the boy was on to something.


	3. Sunsets

Penance spent the following day in Josephine’s office to discuss everything that had happened in her absence. The Ambassador reviewed all of her reports and correspondences in time, pleased at the organization of everything. As sunset crept closer, the elf thought a walk along the battlements to watch the colours over the valley would make for a nice change of pace. She spotted the Inquisitor leaving the Commander’s quarters, an uncommonly serious expression on his face. She made her way over and, after a brief hesitation, entered - Cullen had asked her many times to come in without knocking.

He stood by his desk, eyeing a broken box and paraphernalia that lay scattered on the floor across the room like it might attack him. The blue glow that came from some of the vials told her these were Templar lyrium vials. He’d told her some time ago that he had stopped using the blue liquid to explain his headaches and other ailments. She’d spoken to some of the other Templars in Skyhold who’d told her about lyrium withdrawal and its symptoms, how dangerous it was, and she’d been moved by his commitment to the Inquisition while going through this.

She stepped across the room and gathered the items without a word, placed them back neatly into the box, and proceeded to throw the package out the arrowslit window behind his desk as he stared wide-eyed. She took his hand, hesitant, but he held it. “Come.” She led him toward the Westernmost rampart. The stoop in his shoulders tore at her as he walked quietly next to her, tormented eyes on the horizon. They stopped at the edge, facing due East to take in the glorious pink and orange hues that coloured the sky. “I come here at sunset sometimes, when it feels like the day might swallow me whole. It’s so beautiful.” She took a deep breath and eyed him from the side as he took in the view. “You’ve told me before how... impressed you are at all of the little things I do.”

His eyes shifted to her. “I meant every word.”

“Do you know what inspired me, Cullen?” She lay her hands on the stone to steady them and looked back at him. “You.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. His heart skipped a beat at hearing his name through her lips. “Me?”

She giggled a little as she continued. “At first, in Haven, I’ll admit I thought you were a little cold. But distracted would have been more perceptive. I couldn’t have been more wrong. You were so determined to make the Inquisition into a force to be reckoned with, to protect others, that your own personal well-being didn’t matter. If you could find it in yourself to give so much, how could anyone here do any less? It wasn’t until you told me about the lyrium that I realized quite how much you’d taken on.” He looked uncomfortable at the praise, but more than a little touched at her words. She bit her lower lip, turning her gaze back to the sunset. “I... I hope you know that I don’t tend to you out of some obligation. I do it because I care. Not about the Inquisition, or the general of its forces.” Her eyes found his again. “I care about you.”

He let a breath out of his body she thought he’d been holding for far too long. His hand touched her neck as he leaned forward and kissed her lips, gentle, far more gentle than she’d thought possible, like feathers falling. Her arms slid up his chest and she pressed into him for more; the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, until his tongue found hers and his arms wrapped her fiercely. They savoured each other until they were out of breath, clinging to each other in support lest their knees give out. He held her against him for some time, his face buried into her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She pulled back to look at him.

“Taking this long.”

She laughed. “I could have been more forthright, myself. I didn’t think...”

“What?”

She shrugged. “It seems silly now, but an elf from an alienage... we’re either seen as objects to play with and throw away, or not seen at all. The Commander of the Inquisition forces seemed... out of reach.”

He furrowed his brow, his thumbs tracing the edge of her jaw. “Do you know what I see?” She shook her head, her eyes searching his for the answer. “The best thing that ever happened to me.” His forehead leaned into hers for a moment then he stepped back. He looked over at the horizon again with a smile. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’m not through this yet, but I feel better.” He smirked. “Do you think there’s a chance this isn’t making the gossip rounds right now?”

“Ah, no. I’m quite certain everyone knows by now.” She sighed. “I have one last round to do before I can call this a day.” She placed a soft kiss onto his cheek and trotted down to the gardens towards the keep.

Something woke Cullen during the night. He stirred onto his elbows to listen and his head followed the sounds of someone climbing up the ladder leading to his bedroom. A dark outline appeared as a small figure made it onto the platform. He rubbed his eyes, assuming a guard had come in with important news until the moonlight caught the pale skin of Penance as she walked toward him, wrapped in the cloak he’d given her. “It’s just me,” she whispered. She stayed in the moonlight so he could see as she opened the cloak and let it drop to the floor, standing in nothing but a light night gown. She crept up to his bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, her large eyes silky as she leaned forward. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” He cursed himself inwardly for a fool but he was at a loss for words at the sight of her satin skin and the two sharp peaks of her breasts through the material. He circled her waist with his arm and pulled her onto the bed until her chest pressed against his, his other hand sliding up her lean thigh, over her hip and into the small of her back.

She pushed him back down onto his pillow, her lips brushing against his briefly before her teeth grazed the scar on his lip and made their way down to his chin, his jaw, then taking a nibble at his earlobe. Her hands roved over his chest, feeling the edge of his muscles as he reached up her back with his fingertips and into her hair. He pulled the pin out and her mane fell down in a cascade. He ran his fingers through it, kissing her while she reached down, past his belly button at used her palm to caress his erection in a long, firm stroke.

She straddled his hips and pulled her nightgown over her head. He sat up to take one of her breasts into his mouth, gently teasing the tender nipple between his teeth. She pressed her lips to his ear while her hands still worked up and down his shaft over his underwear. “What do you want, Cullen?”

He rolled her over onto her back with a smile that took her breath away. His mouth inched over to her ear, grazing the edge lightly enough to send shivers up and down her spine until her fingernails dug into back, her hips pushing up against his. His soft whisper drew a moan from her throat. “I want” he said with a kiss to her neck, “to taste,” and kiss to her throat, “every inch,” his hot breath reached her other ear, “of you.” As though on cue, his mouth inched its way down the side of neck, taking a nibble out of her shoulder, then down further until her gasps filled the air.

Outside, the two guards patrolling the battlements exchanged knowing looks at the sounds that wafted out of the main tower and stepped away with repressed laughs.

 

Cullen woke before sunset as he always did. A slender arm had wrapped itself around his waist and when he tried to edge off the bed, the little hand twitched, clasping. He rolled over to face Penance, still asleep against him. His hand slid over her hip, and up her stomach, making its way until he held her chin between his thumb and index finger. He kissed her lightly, undecided as to whether he wanted to wake her but her eyes fluttered open. “Good morning,” he said.

She smiled, her grogginess apparent as she groaned a wordless response. Her fingertips toed along his chest and into his hair. She sighed. “I should go and get ready. The kitchen will be up already.”

“At this hour?”

She giggled. “How do you think your hot breakfast makes it to your quarters at dawn, Commander? And you’re far from the only early riser in Skyhold.” She crawled over him, her bare skin exposed to the moonlight as she looked for her nightgown and cloak. “Besides, I should head back before everyone can see me return to my quarters in this outfit.” She clasped the cloak and bent over him to kiss him once more before she climbed down the ladder. The door below swung open and shut and Cullen fell back onto his pillow with a sigh.

Penance’s days following the return from the Winter Palace blurred into a long month, then another. The Inquisition’s handling of the events at the ball drew much support and, with it, many guests, dignitaries and new recruits. On some evenings, she managed to climb up to the Commander’s loft, but some nights dragged into the small hours and he would come check in on her in the mornings, still working in the kitchens. Finally, she’d had to request for more staff to be added from Josephine, or the number of guests reduced before every one collapsed of exhaustion.

Several staff had reported in for training within the week and the burden had lessened somewhat, though with the Inquisition’s campaign soon to take them to the Arbor Wilds, preparations for the voyage brought on new challenges. Penance found Cullen in the yard one evening overseeing drills among his troops. She watched for some time, impressed by everyone’s dedication, but the drawn look on many faces told her they were exhausted. The Commander himself pushed through but his shoulders were beginning to sag. She walked up to the edge of the yard, making sure that he could see her in the corner of his eye, a mischievous grin on her lips.

He caught the gleam of her hair as she took the pin out from her bun, sending her waves down past her shoulders with a toss of her head. The recruit he sparred with followed his gaze, missed his hit against Cullen’s shield and almost fell over with his swing. She twirled a strand around her fingers and walked ostentatiously past the troops and toward the tower, a little swagger in her steps. He cleared his throat with a smirk. “That’s... enough for today everyone. Get some rest.” He didn’t fail to notice the snickers from his troops as he followed behind Penance up to his loft - they spent little time together these days and he was damned if he didn’t take the chance while he could, regardless of the jibes he would face the next day.

 

Penance watched the large mass of troops disappear over the horizon. She knew the army would receive support from Orlais once in the Arbor Wilds, but her heart wouldn’t be at ease until he’d returned. If everything went well, he’d be away for weeks, along with the advisors and the Inquisitor; Skyhold felt like an empty husk. Though she’d agreed to take on Josephine’s duties again while she travelled, she knew things wouldn’t be as imposing as last time with most of the Orlesian army, and even the Empress, headed for the Arbor Wilds to face Corypheus. Thedas waited with bated breath for the end of the monster, and the fulfillment of the Inquisition’s purpose. What that might mean for Penance, she didn’t yet know.

A few weeks later, a bird arrived at Skyhold with news. One of Leliana’s agents gave her the scroll and waited for a response.

_Corypheus has been foiled, his army routed. We leave for Skyhold on the morrow. Let the Little Dove know her Lion will ride ahead of the army this time._

Penance clutched the little parchment then folded it neatly before storing it inside her sleeve. She ripped a piece of paper small enough to be returned to the spymaster by bird, scribbling a quick note before rolling it and handing it to the agent who still waited. The bird reached Leliana the following evening as the Inquisitor’s party, the advisors and Morrigan, set up camp for the day. She pulled out two scrolls from the cylinder and handed one to Cullen with a grin. He’d been staring at the flames, listening to one of Varric’s tales and sipping some tea with a smile. The dwarf had been detailing some of his adventures with the Champion of Kirkwall and the Commander always enjoyed tales of Lady Hawke’s more sordid accomplishments.

His brow furrowed at the message scroll but he took it, expecting bad news from an outpost or from the army forces leagues behind them.

_Skyhold awaits, as does the Dove for her Lion._

_-P._

A smile crept onto his lips and he tucked the message into his tunic for safekeeping.

 

They arrived at Skyhold to find it bustling with activity as usual. Master Dennet and his squires took the horses and everyone separated to find their quarters in hopes of a hot meal and bath. Cullen looked about for Penance, a little dejected at her absence, before climbing the steps to his tower. He found her sitting at his desk, bare feet up onto the oak surface, sipping on a glass of mead with her hair the only cover to hide her exposed breasts. He shut and locked the door behind him with a flush. “Maker’s breath” he giggled, “what was your plan if this had been someone else?” He pulled off his tunic and tossed it to the floor before locking the two remaining doors.

She shrugged, her expression almost predatory as she watched him step in her direction. “Glare until they left?” He took off his gloves, then his fingers started to work at undoing the clasps of his armour, one piece at a time with a grin that made her bite her lower lip. She sipped more mead, holding the cup to her lips a little too long and some of the liquid spilled onto her chest, rolling down to her stomach before disappearing below the edge of the desk from his view. She didn’t budge to clean it and continued to look at him, licking her lips.

Cullen’s eyes grew husky and his fingers almost frantic while they continued to remove his gear. His chest plate clanged to the floor and he pulled on his belt to slide it off with a yank. He came around the corner to lean in and claim a kiss from her but her foot stopped him, pressing against the linen shirt that still covered his chest. “Off. All of it,” she said.

He growled low as his boots slipped off, followed by his pants, the armour below and finally the under garments. By the time the last item of clothing hit the stone floor, he grabbed the cup from her fingers to set it on the table furiously as she giggled. He picked her up out of the chair and sat her on the edge of the large desk, his fingers in her hair as he kissed her, almost frantic at feeling her skin against his again. He lowered her gently to the desk while his mouth traced the mead down her chin, to her throat, taking time to lick and suckle the sweet liquid clean inch by inch. By the time he reached her belly button, she squirmed under his touch, her breath coming out in little gasps.

He kneeled as he continued to kiss down, his hands moving her legs over his shoulders; her hands slid through his hair in anticipation. He picked up the glass and took a long sip as he stared at her. Her mouth opened, waiting, her eyes pleading with him. He tipped the cup slowly against the inside of her leg, looking at the path the liquor took, kissing until he felt the hair between her legs against his cheek. When he finally set his mouth over her slick lips, she leaned back down with a moan of pleasure. One finger, then another slid inside her and her hips convulsed, her legs lifting in small little pulses against his face until the heat was almost too much for him to bear.

She cursed out loud as she came, her hands pulling on his hair and he stood quickly, his hips pressing down between her legs until he was deep inside her. He cupped her buttock with one hand, her knee still caught over his arm as he thrust again with a low growl. His back arched and curled to build into a dreadful pace he wouldn’t be able to hold for long. Penance bit into his shoulder, her one heel digging into his ass to spur him on, her nails raking his skin. She stiffened under him, eyes rolling back and he felt her tighten around him. She was coming again and the feeling sent him over the edge, thrusting hard into her, one hand holding her down on the desk while the other clasped her thigh still strung over his shoulder.

Their limbs loosened and he fell down onto her chest, spent. “I missed you,” she said after some time.

He giggled into her neck. “I love you, dove.” She took his head into her hands and kissed his face all over. When she whispered the words back to him, he picked her up into a fierce embrace.

 

Penance was making her way across the courtyard to deliver some of her candied nuts to Cabot when she heard the explosion. Her gaze, along with everyone around her, turned to the sky in time to see a green beam seemingly strike the heavens, reopening the breach. Dread settled over the crowd that gathered. Corypheus had returned, looking to settle his score with the Inquisitor once and for all. Within hours, his inner circle departed for the destroyed Temple of Sacred Ashes while the rest of the Inquisition looked on with bated breath.

When they were spotted on the horizon the following day, the collective sigh of relief could be felt across the keep while everyone busied themselves to prepare for the celebrations. Josephine had hired caterers for the event, wanting all of the Inquisition, staff included, to enjoy the festivities. Penance stood at the Eastern rampart to watch the sun set while most everyone toasted inside the main hall to the Inquisitor and the heroes who’d defeated Corypheus at last. Her heart was light, she’d simply needed a moment to breathe outside of the crowded hall before returning to rejoin the merriment, and perhaps steal some time from her Commander.

She turned at the sound of steps behind her, expecting to see him but a masked Orlesian walked toward her. She smiled back when he did so, coming to stand next to her. “We should all take time to enjoy peace when we can, non?”

“Indeed.” She stepped away. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the view, messir.”

He stepped in front of her to block the way before she could reach the stairs. “I must apologize, Little Dove.” She frowned at the stranger’s use of her nickname, a sudden sense of dread washing over her. “Lord Tremblay, sadly, could not be dissuaded from this course. The House of Repose deeply regrets what I must do.” The knife slipped between her ribs, almost painless, as he held her close against his chest, his hand cradling her head almost tenderly as he stepped with her closer to the edge of the battlement. Her lungs failed her when she tried to breathe to sound an alarm, her fingers clenching at his clothes. Her eyesight faded. Her knees were giving out. She felt his hands push, and the wind against her back as she fell, then her consciousness flittered away with a last thought for her lion. She did not feel her body break against the stone path of the gardens.


	4. Little Dove

The Commander sat up on his bed, his head in his hands, holding back what he knew would be one of many tears. He made himself look back to the bed, just to be sure; the dream had felt so real, but the space next to him lay empty. He knew it would be but the dreams haunted him in the mornings - he could almost feel her reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. Today was her funeral service. They would be cremating her broken remains. Cullen stood and dressed. No armour today, not for him he’d decided. He’d asked for the service to be early in the day - he didn’t think he could hold on long.

When he left the tower to walk down to the courtyard, the sight of her on the pyre almost choked him. The crowd had already gathered, the sisters waiting next to Mother Giselle to speak the words he knew he wouldn’t be able to utter. He joined Elijah at the head of the gathering. The young man stood, but barely, his body wracked with sobs with his hands covering his grief-stricken face. Somehow, Cullen mustered enough strength to wrap his arm around the boy’s shoulders before he nodded to the mother to begin.

His eyes wandered through the crowd as the flames grew. Josephine cried softly against Leliana’s shoulder. The spymaster’s face, in contrast, spoke of the many birds she planned to send out to track down who had done this. The scullery maids huddled in a group with their heads together as sobs tore at their faces. Blackwall and Varric stood, stoic but stricken. The Iron Bull kept his eye on the flames, but his hand clutched at Dorian’s shoulder tightly while the mage cradled a handkerchief to his chest. The Inquisitor held the hair pin he’d given her for her birthday in his hands, unabashed tears rolling from his eyes.

Cullen felt a hand squeeze his arm and his heart almost stopped, his mind all too quick to recall the many times she’d done so - whether to remind him to eat, or when he struggled with one of his headaches, or simply to remind him that he wasn’t alone. He turned his head to see Cassandra falling in next to him, her mouth reciting along with Mother Giselle’s prayer.

The fire took a long time to burn down to ashes, but none moved until it had. The ashes were gathered reverently and placed into an urn. Mother Giselle carried it to the Commander to hold. His hands shook but he clung to the vessel as they proceeded out of the courtyard and into the gardens. He placed the urn into a small vault that had been crafted out of stone, a small chamber to keep the container safe under the ground. Cullen lay the dove clasp he’d given her next to the urn and stepped back, allowing others to place their own small tokens before the cover slid into place. Dirt filled around and over the vault until it disappeared. Elan Ve’mal, the Skyhold botanist, stepped forward and placed a seed into the soft mound, whispering a few words. An apple tree, he’d been told.

Cullen waited for the ceremony to conclude with clenched fists, leaving immediately as it did without a word for anyone. He didn’t think he could take sympathies or condolences. Everyone had agreed that she would be the only member of the Inquisition to be buried at Skyhold, the only place she’d ever called home, where she had touched many souls with her little kindnesses. Grief stricken as he was, Cullen couldn’t help but marvel at all of the simple ways she’d found to make a difference, without ever picking up a sword or wielding a staff, and make everything worth fighting for.

When he reached the top of the stairs toward the spot on the battlements where they’d first kissed, he found Cole seated on the stone, his foot tapping the wall. Cullen didn’t think he could face the boy’s insights on his current pain, yet his steps closed the distance between them until he stood next to him, looking out to the horizon. The boy’s shoulder moved and the Commander flinched, expecting him to describe his grief but no words came - Cole simply lay a hand on his arm, just as she would have, and he finally let the tears come.


End file.
